By Belinda Matore, an LLD candidate and project officer at the Centre for Human Rights in the Faculty of Law at the University of Pretoria 

Childhood is increasingly defined by structure, schedules and achievement. From organised sport and cultural activities to extra lessons and enrichment programmes, many of the experiences intended to support children’s development are becoming ever more demanding. This raises an important question: what happens when activities designed to enrich children’s lives cease to feel voluntary and begin to feel compulsory?

Schools play a vital role in promoting sport, culture and extracurricular activities. Yet when participation is mandated without flexibility, particularly during examination periods, tensions arise between institutional expectations and children’s rights. The issue is no longer simply about sport, choir or chess. It becomes a question of autonomy and whether schools are genuinely placing the best interests of the child at the centre of decision‑making.

Whose benefit? Whose voice?

One increasingly common policy insists that learners may not be excused from sport, choir or chess during exams. The argument is usually framed in predictable ways, such as that commitment builds character; resilience is valued above marks and requests to be excused are often treated as evidence of poor preparation. Who does this serve? The child or the school’s reputation? Who decided that academia isn’t more important during exam week? And where is the child’s voice in any of this?

South Africa’s Constitution, the Children’s Act, the African Charter on the Rights and Welfare of the Child and the UNCRC all recognise children as rights‑holders.  

The right to be heard, protected under Article 12 of the UNCRC, means that children capable of forming their own views must be able to express those views in matters affecting them, with due weight given according to their age and maturity. A blanket “no excuse” policy does not ask learners what they need; it treats them as passive recipients rather than active participants in decisions that directly affect their wellbeing.

Article 12 of the African Charter on the Rights and Welfare of the Child also protects children’s right to leisure, recreation and cultural activities. This matters because extracurricular participation should enrich a child’s development rather than become another source of pressure. When schools make these activities compulsory during exams, they risk turning a protected space for rest, play and cultural life into an additional institutional obligation.

The best interests of the child, protected under Section 28(2) of South Africa’s Constitution, are paramount in every matter concerning a child. A one-size-fits-all policy assumes that every learner will handle exam pressure in the same way. Yet one child may thrive with a full schedule, while another may need rest or flexibility. Where a policy leaves no room for individual circumstances, it places institutional consistency above individual well-being.

The principle of evolving capacity recognises that what is appropriate for a younger learner is not necessarily appropriate for an older adolescent. A Grade 12 learner facing significant exam pressure may be capable of making informed choices about how to balance competing commitments. A policy that treats a 17-year-old like a seven-year-old ignores this foundational principle and fails to respect the learner’s growing autonomy.

The commercialisation agenda – rarely named, always present

Beneath the moral language of “grit” lies a quieter reality. School sport, choir and chess are no longer just extracurricular activities. They are brand assets. League tables, rankings, sponsorships and parent expectations as fee‑payers all create pressure. A team that fields weaker players during exams risks dropping in standings. Empty seats threaten sponsorship agreements. Schools market their sporting success to attract enrolments. The “no excuse” rule protects the product and not the child.

When a school refuses to excuse a learner from chess or choir during exams, who loses if the child stays home? The child gains rest and focus. Who loses? Is it the coach who cannot field a full team, the marketing department that cannot publish a photograph or the league organiser who needs results?

That calculation is commercial, not educational. And it has no place masquerading as character development.

When participation stops feeling like participation

Sport and choir begin, for most children, as joy. They are platforms to play, create and belong. Play is a right under Article 31 of the UNCRC. But when participation becomes compulsory during exams, the fun drains out. What remains is exhaustion, anxiety, resentment towards activities once loved and silence, because children learn quickly that their views do not matter. If we asked learners directly, as Article 12 requires, they might say something along the lines of, “I used to love choir, but now it feels like another thing I have to do,” or “No one ever asked me what I think.”

A better approach

Supporting commitment does not require inflexible rules. A child-centred model would encourage participation as the norm while allowing reasonable exemptions during exams. It would create opportunities for learner input on policies that affect them and recognise differences in age, maturity and individual circumstances. Instead of treating requests for flexibility as signs of weak character, schools should respond with practical support and ask how they can help children manage competing commitments? This does not undermine resilience. It teaches learners to exercise judgement, communicate needs and balance responsibilities – skills that are equally important for adulthood.

The question is not whether sport, choir and chess matter. They do. Nor is it whether schools should encourage commitment. They should. The real question is whether a blanket “no excuse” policy during exams respects the principles of participation, best interests and evolving capacities. Children are not simply participants in school programmes. They are rights‑holders whose perspectives deserve consideration. A school committed to developing character should be willing to trust children with a voice in decisions that affect them. Character is not built through compliance alone. It is built through autonomy, responsibility and the opportunity to exercise informed judgment. Anything less serves institutional convenience and not the child.